


If You Forget Me

by DestinyIslandWanderer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Background OT4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gladnoct feels, M/M, New Year's Eve, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Road Trip, Soft Gladiolus Amicitia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyIslandWanderer/pseuds/DestinyIslandWanderer
Summary: “Sorry,” Noctis says. “Don’t mean to be depressing on New Year’s Eve.”“It’s okay,” Gladio replies softly, fingers tickling up Noctis’s arm. His skin’s always so soft and smooth, so unlike Gladio’s, all scars and bruises. Gladio likes it this way, never wants to see so much as a blemish on Noctis’s skin. He swore to protect him, and that’s what he’ll do, even when that protection goes beyond the flesh.Gladio notices Noctis is having a rough time on New Year’s Eve and will do anything he can to make it better. [Gladnoct with background OT4.]
Relationships: Background ot4 - Relationship, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	If You Forget Me

The four of them are just finishing up Rainbow Road, the final race in Mario Kart. Loser drinks a full shot. 

Gladio’s had his eye on Noctis all night. Noctis keeps losing, which is suspicious for the reigning champ, but, even more concerning, he doesn’t seem frustrated by his losses.

Gladio fumbles the last round on purpose, which would normally obliterate his ego, but tonight it doesn’t matter, he just wants to prevent Noctis from drinking any more than he has already. Sad, drunk Noctis always wrecks him. He comes to Gladio when he’s down, because Ignis means well but offers too much advice, and Prompto usually ends up in tears because he feels everything too strongly. Gladio listens, keeps cool. He knows Noct so well, has always known how to soothe him and make it better. 

Prompto and Ignis are trashed, and normally Gladio would be taking great advantage of that, because it’s entertaining to get Ignis to confess what kind of porn he watches (information which Gladio loves to store and surprise him with later) and satisfying to hear Prompto regale them each with fifteen-minute monologues on the reasons he loves them. His drunken confessions are always really cute, even better when they end in drunken making out, which they almost always do (because who’s not gonna make out with someone who just talked about the curve of their butt so lovingly for a full fifteen minutes?).

Noctis could go either way. Gladio thought on New Years Eve he’d be happy enough, buoyed by the presence of the three of them, but it doesn’t look like it’ll happen that way. It appears he’s spiraling, so Gladio takes his shot of vodka at the end of the round and cozies up to him on the edge of the couch while Ignis and Prompto go to the balcony to watch the street fireworks below Noct’s apartment. Gladio puts an arm around Noctis, and the prince instantly melts into his chest. 

“What’s wrong, Princess?” he whispers, stroking his hair.

“Can’t stop thinking about my marriage,” he admits, tracing the eagle wing up Gladio’s arm with his finger. “They’re gonna marry me off to someone soon, I just know it. Dad’s been avoiding me, but I hear things, and I just...I’m happy like this, with you guys.”

Gladio knows. He thinks about it all the time, how they’ve got a good thing going, how he _finally_ got everyone to admit they wanted to bang, and then it turned into this full-blown polyamorous ordeal that half the time makes him wannna rip his hair out and the other half is the happiest he’s ever been. He wouldn’t change it despite the maddening task that is loving and caring for three people who tend to need a lot. 

He knows Noctis only likes what’s comfortable, and that’s limited to the three of them, the ones who’ve been there for him—Gladio and Ignis since the very beginning.

“Sorry,” Noctis says. “Don’t mean to be depressing on New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s okay,” Gladio says softly, fingers tickling up Noctis’s arm. His skin’s always so soft and smooth, so unlike Gladio’s, all scars and bruises. Gladio likes it this way, never wants to see so much as a blemish on Noctis’s flesh. He swore to protect him, and that’s what he’ll do, even when that protection goes deeper than flesh.

They all know Noctis has times where he can’t get out of bed, where everything is too much. Gladio hopes this isn’t the beginning of one of those times. It’s hard on all of them, Ignis and Prompto especially. Ignis feels like a failure, and Prompto feels everything double, maybe triple, when it comes to Noctis, his obvious favorite (even if he’d never say it). 

Gladio’s no one’s favorite, except maybe Prompto when he’s really in the mood to bottom, but it’s okay. He knows they all need him, that he has a purpose in their relationship. Hell, they wouldn’t even be together without Gladio, and he’s sure they all appreciate that. 

“Love you,” Noctis says softly, before he raises his head to look at him.

He’s beautiful, in an ethereal kind of way, pale skin with dark hair and those limitless blue eyes. Gladio’s so used to Noct by now, he doesn’t often really take the time to notice how pretty he is, but he should, because Noct is right. Their relationship can’t last forever, not like this. Things will be different when he marries, by necessity. They’ve all accepted that, but it doesn’t make it easier.

“C’mere,” Gladio coaxes, and Noctis knows what he wants. He lifts himself into Gladio’s lap, straddling him, and Gladio gently wraps his fingers behind Noctis’s neck, entwining them in soft hair, and ushers the prince towards his lips.

Noctis is usually reactive as a lover, partly because he likes to let his mind go completely during sex and partly because he’s lazy, but tonight, he’s clinging to Gladio like a lifeline, his lips hot and fierce, a desperate plea to pull Gladio deeper into this moment. 

When their lips part, Gladio waits to see what Noctis needs. 

“Can you take off your shirt?”

Gladio eyes him quizzically. “Didn’t really expect you’d want to—“

“No, I don’t mean for like, _sex,”_ he whispers, the word like a dirty secret, as if he’s never had it before. It makes Gladio smile, one of those endearing ways Noctis is still incurable shy, just like when he was a kid. “I just like how warm it is.”

Okay, that’s the cutest thing ever, and Gladio never needs a reason to take his clothes off anyway. His muscle shirt goes, and Noctis flops his legs over Gladio’s lap, his cheek warm on Gladio’s chest.

“Can you recite that one poem for me?” Noctis asks.

It’s sweet of him to ask. Gladio memorizes poetry in his free time, mostly just from reading his favorites over and over until they’re etched onto his lips. 

_If I look at the crystal moon_

_At the red branch of the slow autumn at my window_

_If I touch near the fire the impalpable ash_

_Or the wrinkled body of the log_

_Everything carries me to you_

_As if everything that exists - aromas, light, metals_

_Were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me…_

Noctis listens quietly, breathing deeply as Gladio recites the rest. The prince has always said he likes the sound of Gladio’s voice, that it’s calming to him, same with Iggy’s.

When the recitation is done, Gladio hears Prompto and Ignis laughing in the kitchen. He watches the TV newscasters live from Altissia where the grandest fireworks display in all of Eos occurs every year. He tickles lines down Noctis’s back and enjoys the peace that he’s rewarded by Noctis’s calm.

Eventually, he carries a sleeping Noctis to bed and spends the next couple hours with a hilariously drunk Ignis and Prompto, his smile half-faded, thinking about Noctis, fixated on what he said about his marriage.

When it’s almost midnight, he slowly opens Noctis’s bedroom door and slips under the covers. Noctis stirs and instantly molds to his chest. 

“I’m not going away,” he reminds Noctis. “No matter what happens, or who you marry, you’ll always have me. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, wanna come countdown to the New Year with us?”

Noctis smiles, lets out a breath of laughter, maybe relief—just what Gladio’s been eager to hear all evening, a reminder that Noctis’s sadness is never permanent, that Gladio can help him through, or at least make it bearable.

Prompto and Ignis practically pounce on Noctis when they arrive in the living room, Prompto affixes a cheap, paper party hat on his head, and Ignis just straight-up starts making out with him with zero foreplay.

“Gotta love a drunk, Iggy, right?” Prompto says, sidling up to Gladio’s side in a way that’s meant to be smooth, but looks awkward as hell because it’s Prompto. Gladio puts an arm around him and kisses his forehead.

“Sure do. Guess you’re gonna have to kiss me when the clock strikes midnight. You know how Ignis gets once he latches on.”

“Dude, _yes._ I’m just glad he finally gave my lips a break. They’re gonna be super chapped tomorrow. But yeah, Big Guy. You’re on for the midnight kiss,” he grins, even blushes a little. “So, uh, is Noct okay? I kinda didn’t wanna ask ‘cause I was so wasted I didn’t think I could help, but it seemed like you had it covered?”

“Yeah, he’s just worried about the future.”

“Me too,” Prompto sighs. “He told me he thinks he’ll have to get married soon. It sucks, dude.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees, watching Ignis plop onto the couch and drag Noctis into his lap. “He’s pretty far gone, huh?”

“Iggy, you mean? Oh yeah,” Prompto chuckles. “I’m finally startin’ to sober up, but I saw the Igster drinkin’ straight from the bottle. I think he’s worried about Noct too...”

They hear the countdown on TV, and even Noctis breaks from Ignis’s vice-grip and helps him up, guiding Ignis so the four of them are standing in a circle. And then it’s all smiles as they chant,

_Five, four, three, two, one…_

They didn’t even really coordinate it, but Gladio looks at Prompto, and it appears they all understand each other without words. They all go for Noct at once—Ignis gets one cheek, Gladio the other, and Prompto lays one on him, right on the lips. 

Noctis seems happy after that. They end up all cuddling on the couch to watch the second half of _Jurassic Park_ , because it’s the only decent thing on. Prompto eventually passes out on the couch, one arm hanging off, drool leaking out of his mouth. Ignis has his head lolling to one side of his favorite arm chair, and only Gladio and Noctis make it to the bed. Noctis presses his back to Gladio and pulls Gladio’s arms tightly to his chest. 

“Thanks, Gladio, for earlier.”

“No problem.”

“Seriously though…I don’t think I say it enough...like, I’m,” he chokes, “I think I’m really lucky that you’re my shield.”

Noctis doesn’t usually talk like that, and it’s concerning, to feel Noctis shaking, so vulnerable in his arms, even if his confession is sweet.

“It’s okay. I’m lucky you’re my prince.”

He kisses Noctis’s earlobe gently, then his neck, and it’s not meant to be any kind of invitation, but when he feels Noctis’s ass grind back against him, Gladio teases at the waistband of Noct’s pajama pants, feeling down, stroking him through his clothes until he feels the prince getting hard.

“What do you want?” Gladio whispers.

Noctis isn’t often vocal during sex. He pushes his hips back again instead, and Gladio knows what that means. He reaches for the handle of the bedside dresser, trying to keep one hand on Noct, and pulls out the lube before returning to spooning Noctis, gently tugging down Noctis’s pants and underwear so he can feel the warm flesh of that luscious ass fill his wide palm. 

“Your skin is so soft,” Gladio praises, gently biting his earlobe again, knowing Noctis has gotten off to his voice alone before.

Noctis responds instantly, his hips rolling back. Gladio unbuttons his own pants and pulls them down, freeing himself so he can feel the warmth of Noctis’s cheeks surrounding his cock.

Gladio knows Noctis won’t wait much longer. He’s impatient, often to his own detriment, but Gladio won’t let him go too quickly tonight. He’ll keep Noctis just where he wants him, boneless and pliant, helpless to the pleasures only Gladio can offer. 

He pops open the lube with one hand, the other gently teasing over Noctis’s nipple, enjoying the way his back arches to the touch, and just when he has Noctis starting to shiver, he works his finger slowly inside him, earning the first, delicious gasp Noctis lets out before going soft in his grip. 

He uses one hand to keep Noctis close to his chest, and the other to push further inside, slowly working him open, whispering sweet nothings— _how soft, how tight, how beautiful_ , until Noct is all submission, soft sighs and curved edges—out of his head, lost to sensation. It’s good for him to be like this, and Gladio feels it too, how there’s nothing but Noctis, letting him in, allowing Gladio’s fingers to probe inside, tight walls easing to his touch. It’s incredible how well they fit into each other.

 _“Astrals,”_ Gladio breathes. He can’t allow separation between them any longer. He gently works his full length inside of Noctis, and Noctis opens for him easily. It feels natural for them to be connected this way, their bond so intrinsic and sacred, forged before birth—their destinies intertwined by the very blood that quickens in their veins as they touch, as Gladio thrusts deeper and Noctis gives himself over to pleasure.

He can feel Noctis’s pulse racing in time with his own, and Gladio’s climax comes like a revelation. He undoes himself inside Noctis, his own joy replaced by the pace of the prince’s hand as he strokes himself. Gladio gently wraps his finger around Noctis’s neck, just to feel the vibrations of his throat as he releases a final cry of pleasure into the dark. 

“I need you,” Noctis pleads gently after it’s all done.

_“I’m here.”_

“What about when I get married, and—“

Noctis starts to shake again, starting to fall apart, turning to fragile pieces in his arms. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Noct.”

“What if you want to leave. What if you find someone else, and—“

“Noct,” he whispers, holding him, grounding him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay. I love you.”

“But Iggy and Prompto—“

“Things will change, I can’t say they _won’t,_ but you and me, Ignis, Prompto, how we feel about _you._ That won’t change.”

Maybe it’s a useless, broken promise, born of quiet desperation, but he doesn’t think so. And it seems to appease Noctis, to slow his breathing and pause the frantic pace of his mind.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay... _okay_.”

A brief silence, and then finally, a hint of lightness in his voice. “Hey Gladio?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t think I even said it, but happy new year. Glad I got to spend it with you, and...don’t tell Iggy and Prom, but, of everyone, I’ve always felt closest to you…You-you always know how to take care of me, I guess.”

Gladio experiences a rush of pride, a blossoming warmth in his chest. He didn’t know he needed to hear it, but he smiles and offers a kiss, thankful to be needed by his prince.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The quoted poem is “If You Forget Me” by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> I hope you have a happy New Year! Please excuse my melancholy self. This year has been so bittersweet, as I’m sure you’ll agree, and writing this piece was soothing self-therapy.


End file.
